Never Be The Same Again
by Corazie
Summary: Hermione will soon be free. But first she has to tie up a few lose ends and attempt to save not only her parent's marriage, but her own relationship with Ron.
1. Chapter One

**Never Be the Same Again**

Glancing out of the window, Hermione Granger could see no further than the hedge behind her garden. A warm orange glow emanated from the streetlamp just two metre's further, indistinguishable as anything saving a floating orb. She rubbed at the sleep in her eyes and reached for her mobile phone to run her alarm on snooze. She popped a pill from a green strip and swigged at a bottle of water sitting on the windowsill before flopping back down onto the large metal framed bed.

I took a further fifteen minutes and two alarms before the rather average looking brown haired girl rolled to the opposite edge of the bed and sat up, stretching and moaning as she stubbed her toe against one of the many things littering her floor. She bent down and grabbed a pair of silver flip-flops. Her slippers. They weren't any good at keeping her feet warm, but every day she dutifully slipped her feet into them. The had been a gift after all. From Ron.

"Crookshanks," she stroked the small ball of fluff that was curled up at the foot of the bed, just within reach. "Come on. Breakfast! Get up you lazy lump."

From the tiny ball at the foot of her bed unfurled a gigantic cat, tufts sticking up at every angle, glaring at Hermione. The cat stretched and slumped back down in a similar manner to that with which Hermione had previously fell back. Meow.

Giving up, Hermione left her room and went downstairs, one had on the banister, the other on the undecorated wall to her right to guide her down in her sleepy state. A morning person Hermione was not. She pushed at the door to the living room and plucked a purple satin throw from the back of the couch in front of her. Then she continued to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. She pulled the door to the dishwasher and grabbed a mug and a tea pot. Two tea bags and a boiled kettle later, and Hermione was moving back into the living room, wrapped up in purple with an empty mug in one hand, and a stainless steel tea pot in the opposite. She deposited the load on a stool that was presently acting as a small drinks table.

A grin started to spread across her face, and she stood, opening the blinds at the front and the back of the room.

Goosebumps spread across her pale skin, her legs and her arms. The pale, weak light made everything seem chilled, icy, even with the warm creams and browns of the living room walls.

Hermione started back towards the door to the hall and pressed the light switch, cursing her mother's boyfriend for his choice in low watt light bulbs, seemingly taking hours to light properly, as the room only seemed to grow darker.

She gave a start as the door swayed and Crookshanks paced in, a gloomy look on his face. He started to butt her legs with his head, speeding his pace up until Hermione relented and picked him up. She carried him into the kitchen and dropped him on the counter above the dishwasher, next to the sink. He mewed as she picked up his bowl and started to open a small tin of tune. His mewing continued as she emptied the tin and started to break the piece up smaller. Crookshanks was a glutton and would swallow every bit whole, so the pieces had to be small.

She placed the bowl of the mat on the floor and pushed her cat off the bench. He started to greedily swallow his food and she left him to it. Going back into the living room, she poured herself a cup of tea and gulped it down.

The house was definitely colder than usual. Probably her mother's boyfriend and his energy saving ways. They were up stairs in the mater bedroom right now. Her father was in the spare bedroom on a single cabin bed, wrapped in pink sheets, with his clothes in a pink wardrobe, his work on a pink desk.

After Hermione's father had broken from the NHS and turned private, he had found himself bringing more and more work home. Hermione didn't mind. But her mother craved the attention that she was slowly losing to the cosmetic dental surgery that her father was now performing.

Hermione curled up on the couch, wrapped still in the purple throw. She quickly drank her way through the small tea pot. She briefly considered getting more tea, but then decided against it. Three mugs of tea were enough, she didn't want to be on a caffeine high when she settled down to do her homework. She needed a clear head to concentrate. She should finish it by the end of day. If she's not interrupted.

There may not be many people in the Granger household, but interruptions were plenty. When Hermione's mother and boyfriend finally pulled themselves out of their alcohol induce slumber that was.

Hermione glanced at the red digital time on the DVD player and made her way upstairs with a sigh. To wake her father. It was time for him to go to work. To bring in the money after her mother had decided that alcohol was a more productive use of her time.

With her father leaving for work, Hermione cleaned and dressed herself. She scrubbed at her teeth with hard bristles, white foam congregating in her mouth. She rinsed her mouth. She brushed her hair. Then she slipped into the master bedroom and slipped five pounds from her mother's purse.

She jogged downstairs, grabbing her bag in the hallway and rushing on a pair of pumps from the blue wooden shoe box. She grabbed a hooded top from the banister and stepped outside.

Hermione quickly walked uphill to the off licence, buying the cheapest bottles of wine that she could, today there was a deal on. Three bottles of Lambrini for the price of two. That left her with some change. Enough either for a small quarter bottle of vodka or a packet of cigarettes. Hermione chose the latter, flashing her driving licence at the person behind the counter as she handed over the money and took the cigarettes and change, bundling them into her pocket.


	2. Chapter Two

**Never Be the Same Again**

Hermione slid her key into the door and once inside closed it quietly. It was almost eleven o'clock and it was likely that any loud noise would wake the two alcoholics upstairs. She took off her hooded top and shoes, slipped her silver flip flops back on and picked her handbag back up.

She put the three bottles of cheap sparkling wine in the fridge and opened the back door. The thick mist of the early morning had almost completely burned off and the day was promising to be a fine one. Hermione walked over the damp grass and puller a chair out from the table. She dragged the ash tray along the black glass surface.

From her bag she sought an already open pack of cigarette, her hand closing around the green and white packet. She placed the white filter in her mouth and flicked her lighter open, sparking the flint, igniting the wick. She took slow, purposeful draws, not bothering to use the ash tray, tapping her ash on to the grass instead. As she neared the filter, she sat up in the chair. Enjoying the feel of the sun on the bare skin of her arms. She pushed the end of the cigarette in to the metal of the ash tray, the damp ashes in the bottom hissing as the glowing end touched them.

She stood up and walked back in to the house. Crookshanks ran past her the opposite way and Hermione heard shouting coming from upstairs. They had woken up.

Hermione turned on the kettle, and pulled two mugs and two glass tumblers from the dishwasher. She placed them on the counter and went to the fridge, bringing out the milk and the two litre bottle of Irn Bru. She deposited the milk and grabbed the two tumblers.

Upstairs, she tentatively knocked on the door, opened it and placed the glasses and the Irn Bru on the bedside cabinet.

"Where's my coffee?" It was her mother, her voice dry and breath stinking.

"I'm just going to get it. Kettle's boiled now. I brought the Irn Bru up. Do you want some paracetamol?" Hermione's voice was kind, sympathetic and soothing, despite her current feeling towards her mother.

Hermione's mother grunted in response and Hermione made her way downstairs to make the coffee; two teaspoons instant coffee, enough milk to make it a caramel colour, no sugar. Then she opened the draw and took two paracetamol from the foil packet.

She returned to the bedroom with the coffee and the paracetamol and moved ash trays and empty cans to make space on the cabinet for the mugs. Her mother had to get out of bed today. Her mother's boyfriend too. Time to sign on at the Job Centre, get some cash for the week.

For the booze and the tabs.

"Mum. I'm going out today. Do you need me to get anything from the shops?"

"Just a wee drink sweet," her mother was trying to be nice. Trying to bribe her. "I've been so good recently. I haven't passed out for two weeks."

Hermione was disgusted, but agreed, "Okay mum, but only since you've been so good," a complete lie.

Hermione went in to her own room and opened a drawer, pulling out some jeans and a T-shirt. She changed quickly, grabbed her leather jacket and went back downstairs. She pulled on her silver sprayed Doc Matrens, not bothering to tie the laces. Up came her bag and again Hermione was leaving. This time she slammed the door, knowing that she would regret it later when the drink had been flowing for a few hours.

She walked steadily out of the street and deeper in to the estate. Once round the corner, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes and again lit up as she walked. She passed the tiny two up, two down's in Wood Street and then the enormous dwellings in Cloverhill Close. Her own house was a bit bigger than average in Lakeside Close. No where near a lake, but next to a large pond created by sunken mines a hundred years ago.

She cut through the corner of the cornfield that backed the varied estate and down an alley wedged between two narrow Victorian terraces, where she flicked away the end of her second cigarette of the day. She was on the main street of the neighbouring village now, and started walking further in, towards the central roads and bus stops.

At the bus stop she pulled out her phone an checked the time, before stepping towards the road and holding out her left hand. The bus stopped and she payed her fare, grumbling to herself about it being so expensive. She was going in to the City to find a job. Preferably magical. Preferablywell paid. But it was her first job, so she wouldn't be too fussy.

She stepped off the bus and cut through the bus station, into the shopping centre. Heading for the toilets, she again checked the time. Closing herself into a cubicle, she transfigured her clothes. A white gausy bouse with a short sleeved charcoal cardigan and a neat black pencil skirt. Her Doc Martens were too precious to her, so she nipped in to the first shoe shop she came accross and picked up a pair of black patant heels.

"Thank you," the shop assistant looked pleased with herself, Hermione's sale must have tipped her wage up.

Hermione left the shop with her new shoes on, her Doc Martens tucked safely from sight. She walked down a cobbled street, downhill toawrds the quay side. She stopped at a small shop, disused, with broken windows, and stepped inside.

"Welcome to your local Ministry of Magic office," a voice souded, seemingly from every angle. "Please take a name badge and enter the waiting area, someone will be with you shortly."

Hermione stepped through to the waiting area with her name badge attatched to her chest and settled down for the wait, pulling a large novel from her bag.


End file.
